


The Knight of Wands

by phantasticphun



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Magic, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of alcohol, Swearing, Wicca, Witch!Phil, Witchcraft, Witches, blogger!dan, non-youtube au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 06:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19864972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantasticphun/pseuds/phantasticphun
Summary: Phil Lester is a witch that has a black corgi instead of a cat. He’s also socially awkward and hasn’t lived away from his parents in, well... ever. That is, until now. When he moves into a cottage on the outskirts of London and his next door neighbor is a pretty man that hums to himself as he waters his plants and has a halo of chocolate curls on his head, Phil turns to the one thing he knows can’t fail him: magic. It won’t fail him now, right?Written for the Phandom Reverse Bang 2019





	1. AIR

The airplane ride was bumpy and Phil was feeling sick. It wasn’t just his upset stomach that was churning, though-- his mind kept tying its thoughts in tight knots, too. Tight, horrible, sickening knots and the only thing keeping him grounded in that moment was the quiet snoring coming from the carrying cage under his seat. Minton, his black corgi, was sleeping on his side. Phil’s mother had laughed a little when he said that he physically couldn’t own a black cat, but his allergies were simply too awful so it wasn’t a possibility. Allergies or not, black cats _were_ a symbol that society had placed on witches-- not to say that he didn’t know quite a few witches that owned them-- and Phil wasn’t exactly the most traditional or stereotypical witch. Besides, although black cats were the pet of choice, Phil himself preferred dogs and he was very happy with Minton. Especially in this moment, Minton was, perhaps, the only thing keeping him sane.

For the first time ever, really, Phil was moving far away from his parents. And permanently. Maybe that was pathetic-- he was thirty-two, after all-- but after studying English at university he had moved back home, not knowing what to do with his life. Now, it wasn’t exactly _home_ home, because they all had moved up to the Isle of Man soon enough, but he was still living with his parents. Honestly, he _still_ had no idea what he was doing with his life, but at least now he had saved up enough money from working as a barista to move to a small town on the outskirts of London. He bought a cottage, complete with internet access, and was in the process of moving his life to the little town. He had no clue what was going to happen once he settled down, but he was determined to make something of himself, something more than an insignificant barista living on an insignificant island off of the mainland’s coast. He just didn’t know what, yet.

The nervous, nauseating twisting inside of Phil was a product of turbulence, both inside himself and due to the wind outside of the little plane. 

He wouldn’t know anyone in this new town. In fact, he wouldn’t know anyone in the entirety of London’s metropolitan area. He wouldn’t know the quirky old woman who owned the quaint coffee shop he had worked at; he wouldn’t know any old friends; he wouldn’t see any exes that he had brief, unsatisfying relationships with; he wouldn’t know the island he was living on inside and out; he wouldn’t know the most beautiful hills to hike up to look out at the ocean, and he wouldn’t know all the shops he could find the best little trinkets in. Everything was going to be new and that was certainly exciting, but with that excitement came stomach-twisting nervousness.

He looked out the small window beside him, comforted by the passing soft clouds. It was windy, sure, but those fast-floating clouds gave him a sense of stability. Clouds always look the same no matter where you go, and that fact made Phil feel like maybe his life wasn’t going to change much at all-- or if it did, it’d end up better than before. He was hoping for that, at least.

As Phil stared out his window, he began to see the certain signs that they were close to London; less farmland with the houses closer together and then, soon enough, taller buildings and far more traffic. 

Just then, a crackling voice of some indistinguishable man came over the loudspeaker, “We will be descending momentarily. Please fasten your seat belts.” Phil did as he was instructed and took a deep breath. Things were about to change-- maybe for worse, but hopefully for better-- and this was just the first step.

~~~

Phil, with Minton in his carrying cage in one hand and the handle to a rolling suitcase in the other, waited outside the Heathrow London airport for his taxi to come up next. The wind whipped through the terminal and Phil’s quiff quickly became wildly messed up, flipped in every way but the one it was supposed to be. Finally, his taxi pulled up, his driver an older man with a scruffy beard. The driver motioned for Phil to put his suitcase in the trunk and he did so. He slipped into the back seat and sat Minton’s cage next to him.

“So where’r’ya heading to?”

This was the first true London man was talking to him-- how exciting! This scruffy taxi man was talking to him! Soon, the scruffy taxi man began rolling out of the pick-up lane and into the rest of the parking lot traffic. And now, the scruffy taxi man was probably quite annoyed that it was taking Phil so long to respond to his very simple question.

“Oh, uh,” Phil began, stuttering, and then gave the driver his new address. His new address! What an absolutely fantastic notion. This little cottage was to be the first step into his new future. Or maybe, it was this taxi ride. Or actually, with that philosophy, it was certainly the plane ride before this that he was just on. Or maybe… 

Definitely, though, Phil was just thinking far too much about all of this.

Change could be fine. Change could be good, actually. The winds of change could be welcomed; they could push in new, wonderful things. Phil just had to make sure that his life changed in good ways and not bad ones, that’s all. And yeah, maybe that was a tall order, but he was tall too and he could take on those changes face-to-face. 

The taxi stopped suddenly and the scruffy taxi man muttered something under his breath. London traffic. This was like nothing he had ever experienced, but of course, this was Scruffy Taxi Man’s daily life. Life is funny like that; each person lives in their own reality.

Phil looked down at Minton. Minton lived in his dog reality; Phil smiled at that. _Dog reality_. Perhaps that was the true route to enlightenment. 

Phil slipped his phone out of his pocket and swiped right to access the camera. Using it as a mirror, he ran a hand through his quiff, trying to get any semblance of the coiffe back to its regular height. Minton probably thought that he was ridiculous. 

Soon enough, the traffic cleared up a little and Scruffy Taxi Man drove Phil and Minton out of London and onto twisting country roads-- roads that would lead him to his new cottage. 

He’d be there soon. Maybe it wasn’t the plane or taxi ride that was the first step of change; those were just catalysts. He could always get back on a plane and just go back. Maybe the real first step to a new kind of change would be that step out of the taxi, Minton’s cage in one hand and suitcase in the other.

~~~

Phil was terrified to step out of that car. He had built up this moment for so long and he was about to finally go through with it. Phil paid Scruffy Taxi Man his fare and then he popped open the trunk. Phil said a grateful thank you and Scruffy Taxi Man responded, “My pleasure.”

With a deep breath, Phil opened the car door and slid out. Once he’d gotten himself out, he immediately turned around to grab Minton’s carrying cage that was still on the seat. He plopped Minton’s cage on the ground and then scurried around to the back of the car to get his suitcase. Struggling slightly, he managed to pull the suitcase out of the trunk and placed it on the ground behind the taxi. Phil slammed the trunk closed-- accidentally, because he had no idea how much force it would take to close it-- and before he knew it, his first London acquaintance, the quiet but seemingly kind Scruffy Taxi Man, sped away. He rolled his suitcase next to Minton’s cage, then picked them both up, just as he had imagined in the taxi only moments before.

The wind was just as forceful as it was in the airport terminal and as he stood there, staring at the quaint cottage before him, it once again blew his hair in every way but the right one. He didn’t care, though. He didn’t care at all. Because finally, after all these years, Phil was going to make something of himself. 

He stepped towards the cottage-- his cottage-- and onto the pathway leading to the front door. The previous owners had kept the garden very nice and Phil was glad to see that. Of course, he’d have to plant some of his own things for spell purposes, but it was nice to know that he wouldn’t have to spend the next month trying to beautify it. Phil liked gardening but he sure didn’t like gardening _that_ much.

He walked along the stone path, observing the well-tended emerald green lawn and the rainbow of flowers that surrounded him. The trees that shrouded the nearby houses were tall and their leaves were, as everything else was, blowing in the wind. They filtered all the warm and bright sunlight, casting a healthy green glow across everything. He heard windchimes someplace nearby and a certain indescribable scent of sweetness somehow sauntered in the air. Truthfully, this cottage was like something out of a fairytale and Phil was ecstatic. What better home could there possibly be for a witch like himself?

He arrived at the round-top door and had to place his suitcase and Minton’s cage down again to dig through his skinny jeans pockets to find the key. After a couple moments of struggling, he obtained it and-- shaking with excitement, almost-- jiggled the key into the lock. Phil swung open the door and snatched up Minton and the suitcase again. 

And there he was, finally.

He closed the door behind him and stood in the front entrance. The cottage was petite, with a small entryway, a kitchen and living room in the front left, and a bathroom and bedroom to the back right side. Well, technically, there were two bedrooms on the right, but he planned to use one of them as a study and spell room: a witchcraft workspace. The moving company had strewn his labeled boxes around the appropriate rooms, but it was far from organized. Brown cardboard boxes littered the floor or were stacked on top of each other five feet high. The couch he had gotten from his grandparents was wrapped in plastic and sitting in the middle of the living room in no particular place. The only light available was from the thick-paned glossy windows that were scattered along the walls and Phil could see floating particles of dust and fuzz in the golden afternoon sun. The air smelled slightly musty and in need of an air freshener or a scented candle… or perhaps, even, just a couple of open windows. 

Phil was happy, though. Incredibly happy. This house was just as he had seen it online. His mum had called him crazy for buying a house online but he knew in his heart that he didn’t even need to visit it, himself-- it was just the one he needed. 

He set the suitcase and Minton down and unlocked the cage’s door. Minton scurried out of his cage, his stubby tail wagging wildly, and hopped up to put his front paws on Phil’s legs. Phil patted his head with a smile and soft “Hey there, buddy,” and Minton jumped back down. He proceeded to run in an excited little circle, shaped somewhat like a doughnut, and Phil chuckled. Minton certainly knew the secrets of happiness; maybe Phil just needed to find someone to pat his head and call him a good boy.

Wait, no, _eesh_ , not like that. Not like that.

Phil took a couple of steps forward, the dust in the air floating around him like a strange sort of fog, and continued to take in the house around him. As Minton followed behind him at his feet, Phil explored the rest of the new house with a giant smile on his face. Each room he peeked into was going to be lots of work but he knew it would be worth it. He made his way back to the little living room, plastic-wrapped couch in the middle of it, and sat down on the floor. Minton stopped and laid down nearby as Phil shuffled over to open the first box of many. 

~~~

Phil collapsed another cardboard box and added it to the pile that had accumulated over the past couple of hours. Most of the living room and small kitchen was unpacked, his dishes and glasses were put in the light-wooden cupboards, the utensils and some cooking supplies were organized in the drawers, and the couch in the living room was unwrapped and put in a sensible place. These were some of Phil’s bigger accomplishments, but he was proud that he also managed the smaller tasks of putting any boxes that were set down in the wrong rooms into the right ones and finding the rolls of toilet paper he packed before needing to use it.

Soon, Minton needed to be taken on a walk-- marked with more doughnut-shaped spins except this time by the door-- and Phil happily obliged. All of the unpacking was starting to make him crazy and besides, he wanted to explore the neighborhood.

They started out the door, Minton’s leash pulling Phil steadily along, and both were so very excited that he almost forgot to lock it. After a quick jiggle of Phil’s key, they were on their way-- down the stone path and onto the sidewalk.

The wind had calmed down significantly and it was now just a warm summer breeze. It was the kind of breeze that made summer enjoyable and not just constant muggy, oppressive heat; the kind of breeze that brought along with it the sweet smell of flowers or the aroma of a nearby bakery’s baking bread. It was a pleasant breeze; one that didn’t mess up his quiff.

As Phil walked along, the sound of windchimes grew increasingly louder until he was standing right in front of the source himself. His next door neighbor was about thirty or forty meters away and Phil was too enamoured with the mysticality of the distant discordant melody to notice how close the cottage and the windchimes that were hanging on the front porch of it really were.

There was a young man standing in the front yard of the house, a large watering can in his hand. He was, perhaps, a couple of years younger than Phil, with a mess of chocolate-colored curls atop his head. As he watered his plants-- the striking contrast of the colorful flowers against his black ripped jeans and too-large white jumper especially prominent-- he hummed a soft tune to himself. He didn’t even notice Phil standing there, far too lost in his own world of pink peonies and apollonian arpeggios, until Minton barked suddenly.

Phil was ready to bolt right out of there, absolutely mortified that he had been caught staring at this admittedly adorable guy. Something stopped him, though, and he kept looking. The man’s head shot up, his eyes first softening at the sight of Minton and then a small, dimpled smile forming when his eyes met Phil’s.

Ooh, yeah, _shit_. Phil was smitten.

He had this sort of air about him that made Phil want more. It made Phil’s priorities suddenly be shaken, like his head was some sort of snowglobe, or perhaps, a kind of Magic Eight Ball that had to focus on one thing. Like, the universe asked him “Will this man be featured indefinitely in Phil’s life?” and his silly Magic Eight Ball head responded with “YOU MAY RELY ON IT.”

Of course, Phil knew that Magic Eight Balls weren’t really magic. Good thing Phil really knew what magic was.

Phil and the chocolate-curled man shared a fond sort of smile before Phil pulled Minton back towards the cottage and waved at his new magical muse. It was a ‘bye for now’ wave. A ‘toodle-loo.’ He thought he heard him chuckle, a little laugh like some sort of pretty pop star’s riff, but he wasn’t sure. Perhaps Phil’s imagination was getting the best of him. He hoped not though, because the laugh was just as lovely as the rest of him.

Minton was probably disappointed that the walk was cut short, but Phil was inspired, now, and he’d take Minton out once more a little later.

The two quickly walked back to their cottage, warm summer breeze blowing the lime-green leaves in the trees, and Phil jiggled the key in the lock quicker than he had ever done so previously.

Once inside, he let Minton off the leash and made his way to the bedroom that was not to be used as a bedroom at all. Phil had some searching to do.


	2. EARTH

Phil didn’t want to make Chocolate Curls do something against his will. He really didn’t. Attraction spells were hard, in that way. He wanted a chance with that guy but he didn’t want to step into too-selfish black magic territory. 

He was thinking of one spell in particular, though, one that he had used previously with a guy back in school he thought was really cool. It was supposed to bring the person into someone’s life as a friend, making is so the two could test compatibility and, eventually, the friendship could evolve into something more. The whole compatibility thing didn’t really work out with the other guy, but he could hope that it would with Chocolate Curls. 

Phil chuckled to himself. He didn’t even know the guy’s name and he was already so enchanted by him. _Enchanted by him!_ Like Chocolate Curls was the witch and Phil wasn’t.

He opened a box of spell books, both newer ones he had bought from the little witchcraft shop that he visited often back on the Isle of Man and older ones he had inherited from his grandmother and other family. Phil flipped through each of them quickly, attempting to find the spell, rooted to the spot on the floor until he found what he was looking for. A small stack of books had piled up and while taking out the next book in the box, a piece of cardstock slid out from between two pages and glided across the room. Phil placed the book down and crawled over to see what had fallen out.

It was one of his tarot cards. The Knight of Wands. 

Phil shrugged and placed it on top of a nearby box. He’d have to find the rest of his deck eventually but had no idea where it was, so he figured it’d be fine there for a little while.

Diving back into the sea of spellbooks around him, he picked up the book that the card had been in. After flipping about halfway through the book, he found it. Just the spell he was looking for.

Phil jumped up with a new pep in his step, the large book in his hands. _Ethical Wicca: A Witch’s Guide to White Magic_. He placed it on the kitchen counter and ran back to his to-be witch’s workspace to look for the materials that the spell required.

~~~

A week passed and Chocolate Curls hadn’t left Phil’s mind. He had done the spell with dried materials he’d prepared and packed, some candles, and its special, magical words and yet there seemed as though there were no results. He wouldn’t give up hope just yet, the couple times that they had seen each other outside and waved or just smiled causing butterflies-- no, _fireworks_ \-- to erupt in Phil’s stomach, being incentive enough to hold on. Magic had failed him very few times before and he did not want this to be one of those times.

Although boring, throughout the week Phil had unpacked all of his boxes except for the ones in his workspace. Not to say that there weren’t witchy items around the cottage; there were some crystals in the kitchen that would cast rainbows dancing around the room if the sun hit them right and he had candles scattered around-- some of which he certainly used for spells-- a couple in every room. _Ethical Wicca_ was now sitting on his small coffee table and the Knight of Wands card was still sitting on top of a box. And yeah, that box was in his witch’s workspace, but the scattered objects gave Phil the feeling that he was still connected to his craft, even if it was only in small ways. Even if the attraction spell he had cast hadn’t worked at all.

Phil had also familiarized himself with his new town. He bought some groceries from the petite, family-owned grocery store and a loaf of bread at the local bakery. He passed by a coffee shop that seemed similar to the one back home (except, Phil thought, how different could a coffee shop really be?) and there was a home furnishing store that Phil had bought a small dining table for his kitchen from and had delivered to his home. Everything he would need on an average day was within walking distance and that was good, considering Phil didn’t have a car; nor did he know how to drive, really.

Well, he had his license, it was more like he was just really bad at driving. And hated to do so. Which, honestly, was probably safest for the world.

Chocolate Curls had a car, though. Truth be told, Phil had no idea what kind of car it was, but it sat in the road in front of his cottage. That was another dichotomy that Phil noticed in the man: the sleek, expensive black car always parked in front of Chocolate Curls’ colorful cottage. It was like the Batmobile was photoshopped in front of an illustration of a cottage right out of a storybook of fairy tales, and then they were both copy-pasted into this universe along with a handsome and horribly confusing man to own them both. Chocolate Curls’ favorite thing to do seemed to be messing with Phil. It was almost as though he loved to contradict himself. He wore all-black clothing while tending to his colorful plants; he parked his shiny black sports car in front of his fairytale house; and-- Phil hoped he didn’t just make this one up in his head-- he had a small pride flag sticker on the rear-view window of said black sports car. Perhaps, the mystery of it all was what made Chocolate Curls so enticing.

Or perhaps, Phil thought, it was something else entirely.

Along with food and furniture, Phil had to buy some new plants for his garden. Although the yard looked lovely, some herbs and flowers were severely lacking for Wiccan purposes. For potions or spells, it was crucial to have exactly what was called for. Otherwise, things could go horribly wrong.

Phil hoped that he hadn’t done something wrong with the attraction spell. Since he knew that he wouldn’t immediately have plants on hand, he had brought with him some dried ingredients and he hoped that that hadn’t interfered with it all.

When he was around town, he noticed that there was a gardening shop, just as small and quaint as the rest of the shops in the town. Since it was warm out, there were many plants outside by the street to entice customers and it accomplished exactly that for Phil. He knew he needed plants-- both for inside and out-- but he also knew he could order some from online. He shrugged, though, and decided to take a look, even if he could only buy a few because he’d have to carry them all the couple-blocks-walk home.

~~~

As Phil was on his hands and knees, planting one of the many new plants that he had bought, a rosemary, Minton vanished from his peripheral vision. Phil figured that his corgi must have just found something interesting to investigate and he knew that he’d never run away.

Now, just as Minton was wandering around the yard, a certain special man with a mess of, albeit sweaty, brunette curls atop his head was jogging nearby. Before Phil had half of a clue what was happening, Minton had bolted away from Phil, out of the yard, and down the street. As Phil had finally finished planting the rosemary, he got up, dusting himself off. He stretched his back and then turned around, face-to-face with none other than Chocolate Curls, himself.

Phil’s knees almost buckled underneath him.

Chocolate Curls was even prettier up-close. His big brown eyes twinkled in the sun and he had a dusting of light, barely-there freckles on his cheeks. Just above his chin and below his dimple on the one side there was a little rosy patch of skin and-- oh, God-- those dimples. He was smiling and his double dimples made Phil want to drop his every inhibition and kiss his cheeks… and then his forehead… and chin… then right on his adorable round nose… and then right on that pair of soft-looking, pliant, pink lips. _Oh, shit_. Phil was screwed. _Oh, fuck_. His wide chest and his big hands… Chocolate Curls screwing him… 

“Hey,” he said, his voice as delicious as the rest of him. “You’ve got a cute dog.”

Minton was in Chocolate Curls’ arms, tongue out and smiling, like he had just won some big award or something for finally bringing this man to Phil.

“I was just out jogging and,” he got close enough to Phil so that he could pass Minton to him, and despite the breath hitched in his throat and Phil’s inability to look away, he somehow took the dog. “I guess he must’ve seen something and ran away at it, but I caught him and figured I should bring him back to you.”

“Yeah” Phil said, the stupid-with-infatuation smile unceasing from his face. “Thank you, it really means a lot.” Phil leaned over to place Minton back on the ground and this time he didn’t budge at all.

Chocolate Curls nodded and said a small, “No problem,” before running a hand through this damp hair. “Oh, I almost forgot. We’ve seen each other around but you don’t know my name.”

 _Chocolate Curls_ was a cute enough nickname but Phil waited with baited breath to learn his real name. The one that he hoped he could say over and over again and never get bored with… the surname he’d hyphenate with his own when they’d get married, or perhaps, they’d use just one of theirs-- whichever flowed better… the one that he’d moan when they were making out and then-- and then...

“Dan,” he said with a dimpled smile and a nod. “My name is Daniel Howell, but you can call me Dan.”

 _Howell-Lester_. He could see it on the wedding invitations already.

“And you are…?” 

“I’m Phil.” He then giggled lightly and with the same inflection as Dan-- _Dan!_ \-- said, “My name is Philip Lester, but you can call me Phil.”

“Ah, Phil. Nice to meet you, properly.” He then quickly added, “I’d shake your hand or something, but I’m a little moist right now and not in the sexy kind of way.”

Phil would disagree with that statement but he wasn’t going to reveal himself _that_ ridiculously easily. 

“So, what’s your dog’s name? He’s a corgi, right?” Dan knelt down to pet Minton and his furry, perky ears relaxed at the touch. “I’ve never seen a corgi with this black kind of coat before.”

“Yeah,” Phil shrugged and then sat on the grass in front of Dan. “His coloring is rather rare, but he’s a corgi. And his name is Minton.”

Dan’s eyebrows rose for a moment at the name, but soon relaxed. “Minton. That’s unique. Does it come from something or something?”

“Yeah, actually, it’s a reference to one of my favorite jokes.” Phil laughed a little, slightly uncomfortable as he groaned internally. Telling bad jokes. The surefire way to get a date.

“Oh really?” Dan grinned. “Do tell.”

“Well,” Phil began, inhaling slowly. He could only hope that Dan liked cheesy humor. “My dog ate three shuttlecocks last night. You know what I said to him?”

Dan rolled his eyes playfully. “No, what?”

“I said, ‘Bad, Minton!’”

Dan snorted, followed by a chortle. “My God, that’s an awful pun.”

“I know, I know, but if you hang around me at all for any period of time you start to get used to it.” Phil shrugged, his stomach-flipping subsiding for a moment. Maybe he and Dan were getting along and that spell had done its magic after all. Maybe things _were_ looking up for Phil. He swallowed slowly like there was a gob of thick treacle stuck in his throat, then said, “I just finished up planting what I bought today and was going to head inside. You wanna come in and, I don’t know,” he paused, an awkward simper forming on his face, “Drink some water?” 

Dan grinned-- as if he ever stopped during their whole conversation thus far-- and responded, “Water sounds wonderful right about now.”

The two men stood up and brushed themselves off. Phil turned towards the house and started to the door, with Dan and Minton not far behind.

“Thanks for inviting me in, by the way.” Dan bumped his shoulder against Phil’s and although he recoiled from the touch, Phil cursed himself for it. 

Phil wanted to touch Dan all day, even if it was just a little shoulder bumps. He blushed at the thought. Shoulder bumps. Touching. _Flirting_.

No, no, it couldn’t be. The attraction spell was just for friendship.

Friendship. That’s all this was going to be.

For now, at least.

Dan continued, “It’s a little outside my comfort zone to go into some guy’s house that I barely know but hey,” his voice got lower, more playful, and his grin twisted into something more akin to a smirk, “I’m a thirsty bitch in more ways than one.”

Phil almost fell over as he took his next step.

~~~

Phil swung open the door and Minton trotted in past the two of them.

“Sorry, it's a little bit of a mess,” Phil apologized, “I’m only just settling in here.”

“Oh, yeah, just about a week, right?” Dan asked as Phil closed the door.

They started towards the kitchen together, Phil once again leading the way. “Yeah, yesterday was one week. I like this place, though. I think I’ll be staying here for quite a while, as long as I can find work.” 

He turned the faucet on and washed his hands, happy to clean the dirt and grime from gardening away and down the drain. After drying off with a nearby towel, Phil made his way to a cupboard and grabbed two glasses, one for each of them. He silently reveled in the simple domesticity of it. It was ridiculous to, perhaps, but at that moment Phil didn’t care. Chocolate Curls was standing in his kitchen-- _Dan_ was standing in his kitchen-- and he adored every second of it.

“Oh, so you don’t have a job?” Dan asked, while Phil filled the glasses with ice and water from his refrigerator. It was small, sure, but the freezer could make ice cubes and the one door had a filtered water dispenser on it that Phil was certainly happy about. 

“No, not yet, we’ll see what I end up doing, I suppose,” Phil said with a little shrug. He smiled and handed Dan one of the glasses, the ice cubes clinking lightly against the side. Dan nodded with a smile and Phil responded, “Of course,” with far too much of a blush for Dan’s silent thank you. He cleared his throat. “I used to work as a barista. It was a cute little shop. You know, not like a chain Starbucks or anything, just a nice coffee house.”

Dan took a sip of the water and Phil was almost too mesmerized by the simple action to hear his question. “So, where’d you live before?”

Phil shook his head a little, trying to shake any daydreams from his head. Dan was standing right in front of him, after all. He attempted to respond but words rushed out of his mouth before he even had a clue what he was saying. “Well, when I was little I lived in Rawtenstall and then after uni I moved to the Isle of Man with my family,” he rambled on, “With my parents, I mean, my older brother Martyn wasn’t with us and yeah, it’s pathetic, I know, about living with my parents and everything, me being thirty-two and with an English degree from York, but that’s how I lived. But now I’m here. So, hopefully things can change some. And obviously my parents aren’t here, so like…” He made eye contact with Dan, who was chuckling lightly at Phil’s absolute nonsense. “So like, hopefully life’s different. Like, good different.”

“Yeah, good different. For sure,” Dan giggled.

There was a little pause where the two of them just stood there, drinking their water and catching glimpses of the other’s eyes when they weren’t blushing and avoiding eye contact. Phil wasn’t quite ready to open up his mouth again, though, too afraid that more words would come spewing out uncontrollably, until he asked, “You wanna sit down?”

“Yeah,” Dan said, “Sounds great.”

Phil led them both to the living room and they sat down on the couch, facing each other. 

“So, you’re from the North?”

Phil nodded.

“Explains your accent,” Dan lilted. 

“Oh,” Phil was taken slightly aback, “I mean, yeah, I guess.” Then he asked, maybe slightly panicked that Dan wouldn’t like him for something as silly as a slight accent, “Is it really that noticeable?” 

“No, no, Phil, it’s not. But it’s cute. Kind of different than what you usually hear in the south. I like it.”

At that comment, Phil’s stomach flipped all over again and thoughts began to race through his head. Cute? _Cute?_ Did Dan really just call his accent cute? What the fuck? What the fuck? _What the fuck?_

“And English at university?” Dan continued, “There’s a lot to do with that here. We’re similar in that sense, I suppose. But hey, you actually finished. I was first in law and then I hated life possibly more than ever before, which is like a _tall_ order, and switched to English. But then I thought, fuck that, I can write without a degree to prove it, and I’m here now so everything worked out, I guess.” Dan laughed at himself slightly and sighed. “Well, now, I’m the one rambling. I don’t think you want my whole life story or anything.”

Phil wanted to tell Dan to go on, that he wanted to hear everything about him, but he just smiled and nodded, then took another sip. As he placed the glass on the coffee table, he tried to scramble through his mind to find something to ask to Dan, but he was too slow.

Dan spoke up again, “I’m not sure what kind of job you’re looking for here but the one coffee shop in town seems to always be hiring. It’s called The Marvelous Mug and it seems nice enough. If you just want an in-between job until you find something better, you could always apply there.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I like mixing things together after all.” Phil realized his bizarre wording only after he had spoken it. Why, even with his apparently somewhat impressive English degree, could words not come out of his mouth properly?

Dan giggled once again-- and Phil memorized the little up and down of his voice, how melodic the laugh was-- and he questioned, “Mixing things? Like, what? Cocktails? Soup? Potions?”

Phil blanched at that comment. “Uh,” he stumbled, “Like drinks. Like, not alcoholic ones, like, caffeinated ones.” He hoped that his awkward response wouldn’t warrant more questioning from Dan. Of course he had to say that word. _Potions_. Of course he did.

“Of course, of course,” Dan took another sip of water, “That’s what baristas do, after all.” He placed his glass down on the coffee table and then surveyed the surface.

That’s the moment Phil realized that a certain inexplicable book was sitting right there in front of the two of them. And in that second, Phil’s worst fear came true.

“ _Ethical Wicca_? What is that, like witches and stuff?” 

Phil’s heart began to beat faster as he tried to come up with some sort of explanation of the book that didn’t involve revealing himself. He didn’t want to lie, per se, he just didn’t want Dan to freak out and hate him forever. Phil had no idea how Dan felt about magic and he didn’t want to jeopardize the small spark that had formed between them. 

“Uh, well, see,” he shot up from the couch and picked the large book up with one swift movement, “It’s a fantasy novel! About… about witches but like, ones that are good! Not like scary Halloween witches or something like that.”

“Like _Harry Potter_?” Dan questioned.

“Yeah, like that,” Phil pasted on a smile. “Like _Harry Potter_! Exactly.”

Dan stood up from his seat, smiling. “Good to know we’re both nerds.”

“Right! I am. Totally. Like _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_? Love that show! My absolute favorite! And, like, _Legend of Zelda_? Those are some good video games,” Phil prattled, trying to say anything at all that would take the subject off of witchcraft. Of course, again, he wasn’t lying. He loved Buffy and video games, but he was also hiding a big part of himself. 

Again, Dan was giggling, this time coupled with a fond shake of his head. “You’re adorable,” he warbled.

And there it was again, that flippy feeling in Phil’s stomach. Even as he gripped the book in his hands until his knuckles turned white, Dan was there making him feel like he could float away like a misty cloud or sink to the ground into some warm, romantic mush.

“Well,” Dan began again, “I better get going soon and finish my workout. Thanks for the hydration.”

As Dan made his way towards the door, Phil quickly placed the book back on the table and made sure to speed up his steps to get there before Dan could. 

“Of course, water’s important, after all,” he swung open the door, “And here.”

“Thank you very much, kind sir.” Dan grinned and lingered in the doorway, like he didn’t really want to go but felt the need to do so. “You’re quite the gentleman.”

“Of course,” Phil said, smiling equally as much as Dan. 

They stood there, Phil leaning on the open door and Dan just outside of it. Neither of them wanted to move, really. “I hope we can talk again sometime soon,” Dan said softly, the afternoon sun behind him, like he was bathed in gold, the rays shining off of his glossy hair. 

“Me too. I’m happy my next door neighbor isn’t a murderer or something,” Phil said with a chuckle.

Dan smirked. “Well, how do you know that? We’ve talked for what, ten, fifteen minutes? You don’t know everything about me, now do you?”

“I suppose not.” 

Dan sidled up to Phil. “But, perhaps, someday.”

After another nudge against Phil’s shoulder Dan whipped around and began walking down the path. “See you soon, Phil,” he called, with a small wave of his fingers.

“Yeah, see you soon,” Phil murmured, probably just loud enough for Dan to hear. He slowly closed the door and peeked out through the curtains on the nearby window to see Dan start his jogging again.

Once Dan left the view in the window pane, Phil sighed, content. Minton came running to him from someplace and Phil flopped down on the floor beneath the window to sit by him. Happily, Minton curled up on Phil’s lap and Phil smiled down at him while beginning to pet his soft back. 

“You know, Minton,” Phil said with a grin as the corgi’s ears perked up, “Despite the mess with that book and, really, my ridiculousness in general, I think I’ve maybe got a chance."


	3. FIRE

The next day, Phil thought he better take Dan’s advice and apply at the coffee shop in town. He certainly didn’t want to be a barista forever, but he didn’t despise the work and quite honestly, he had no idea what other jobs were open. Honestly, he had no idea what jobs he was even qualified for, besides being a barista, of course. Despite Phil’s often clumsy nature, he knew he was competent at the job and had previously kept it for years upon years.

He made his way downtown with a kind of pep in his step. He was following Dan’s advice and maybe that made him just a little bit proud of himself, a little bit cocky, like he was doing something for Dan, almost. Of course, he wasn’t really, and after all, this was just to be a steady source of income until he found a better career. Still, though, it made him inwardly smile. 

As he neared the coffee shop, Phil realized that he had passed by it only a day before when he had bought his plants.  _ The Marvelous Mug _ . Phil pushed open the door and a little bell tingled as he strode in. Now that he was here, however, standing in the entryway and suddenly surrounded by the aroma of coffee and sweet pastries, he didn’t know what to do and his confidence dissipated at once. It wasn’t really obvious by the simple “Help Wanted” sign in the window, after all.

Phil ended up walking to the counter where a quite bored-looking girl, probably five or so years younger than him, with frizzy dark hair pulled back into a small ponytail, stood behind. She mumbled a disinterested, “What can I get for you today?”

With an awkward smile, Phil responded, “Actually, I’m new in town and saw your help wanted sign. I was wondering where I could learn more about applying?”

The girl practically rolled her dark brown eyes as she reached beneath the counter to get a form. “Here’s the application,” she said, “It’s a paper, of course. The owners don’t trust the internet like they’re living in 1989.”

Phil chuckled, but the girl still looked completely unamused. He looked down at her nametag.  _ Sasha _ . 

She continued, “When you’re done with it, just hand it back to me.” After pausing for a moment, she added a sharp, “Do you need anything else?”

Grinning sheepishly, Phil asked, “A pencil?”

Sasha pulled one out from under the counter. “Anything else?”

“A frapp é , please?”

She once again rolled her eyes, but grumbled “Okay,” and turned to begin working.

~~~

Phil had drank his frapp é and filled out the form. He gave it to the grumpy barista with a smile, which Sasha didn’t return for even a moment.

Phil walked back home and as he passed Dan’s house, he noticed that his car was gone. This either meant that Dan was out and about or that someone had stolen it. He hoped for the former, but it was an expensive sports car, after all, that would probably sell for big money on the black market.

Either way, Phil couldn’t distract himself with the possibility that Dan could knock on his door at any moment. If the car was safe, he was nowhere in knocking distance and if it wasn’t, well, Phil would think that Dan would be freaking out far too badly to have any concern over his next door neighbor. Phil figured things were fine, though. People had cars for a reason: to drive them to places.

After Phil fiddled with the small key in his far-from-graceful hand and jiggled it into the lock, he pushed open the door. Minton jumped up immediately, excited to see him, his stubby tail wagging wildly. Phil headed straight to his witchcraft workspace, though-- after giving Minton a scratch behind his ears, of course-- as he was sick of looking at the stacks of boxes and didn’t want a repeat of the  _ Ethical Wicca _ moment any time soon. He wanted to put that book away, along with the rest of his witchy things, and not just place whatever on the coffee table or on top of one of several cardboard boxes. 

Someplace in his stack of boxes there was an IKEA bookshelf he’d have to assemble, despite his awful construction skills. His desk was already in there, though, since that certainly couldn’t be disassembled for the move. It was an antique that was made by his great-grandfather and passed down as many of his possessions were. After all, witches like to follow traditions and even though Phil liked to break some rules and be rather untraditional, he still recieved many hand-me-downs from family members. 

One possession that was certainly not a hand-me-down was his witch’s hat. As he opened the cardboard box which held it, he smiled, fondly remembering the day he received it.

_ Phil had always been curious about magic. From a young age, he was taught to be reasonably superstitious and he’d watch his mother perform spells with big, sparkling blue eyes full of wonder. When he’d get a cold, his mother would give him healing potions and remedies along with his medication with the hope that it could assist his recovery and Phil believed that truly, yes, it did.  _

_ When Phil told his mother that he wanted to follow in her and her family’s footsteps, she was absolutely delighted. However, his father was not. Phil’s dad was supportive of witchcraft, sure-- he married a witch, after all-- but he couldn’t imagine his son, a boy, practicing such a thing. His mother explained to the both of them that, although they are more rare, male witches do exist. Although initially not very supportive, Phil’s father eventually warmed up to the idea and supported his son in his decision to practice the craft. _

_ For a couple of his early teen years, Phil learned as much as possible. He studied books and asked every question that came to his mind to his family members. He’d visit the local witchcraft shop with a grin on his face and curiosity flowing throughout him. Then, he began to perform simple spells that gave him positive results. On this fifteenth birthday, his mother had gifted Phil the hat. Although a traditional symbol, Phil adored it. It was light red, not quite pink, with a large floppy brim. It was put together and blessed especially for him by one of his mother’s witch friends. He had put it on and hugged his parents-- his mother for encouraging him and his father for accepting him.  _

Phil pulled the hat out of the box and put it on. He spun around quickly, laughing a little at himself for being so childish. Being childish sometimes was fun, though, and he only stopped when he heard the gentle thump of cardstock hit the floor.

Phil took his hat off and placed it on top of his desk. He then surveyed the ground for the source of the small noise and sure enough, Phil’s Knight of Wands card had fallen. He picked it up and brushed it off. Phil knew that the rest of his tarot cards and the reference book containing each card’s meaning was in one of the surrounding boxes, he just didn’t know which one. Phil was determined to find the desk and the reference book, though, so that he could return the card. Besides for clean-up purposes, his curiosity got the best of him and he wanted to look up the cards meaning. It had appeared rather randomly, after all, so it was probably a sign from the universe for Phil to heed. Some people would find that notion ridiculous, but those people wouldn’t be a witch like Phil.

He opened another box, but the deck and the book weren’t there.

Another one. Nope.

He opened a third box and finally, stuck between two large spell books, he found them: the rest of the tarot card deck and the small reference book.

Phil flipped through the book until he found the page titled “The Knight of Wands.” He read the description in his head and then paraphrased it aloud to himself. “Some guy is going to have a big impact, an energetic warrior…” he uttered, “A hasty personality and is quick to love or hate.”

Phil shrugged and closed the book.

He stood up from where he knelt and grabbed the card from on top of his desk to shove into the deck’s box. He then placed the reference book on top of the desk and put the deck on top of that.

The surface of Phil’s desk was becoming cluttered rather quickly.

Phil huffed as he turned around, spotting the disassembled IKEA bookcase. Today was going to be one incredibly long day.

~~~

Phil’s day was long indeed. He built the bookcase and opened each box, he decluttered his desk and organized his materials and alphabetized his spellbooks. The ending result was worth it, though. As the evening summer sun, like a single ember, was low in the orange fiery sky, its golden, burning light streaming through the windows, Phil took a sigh of relief. 

His witchcraft workspace was finally done. He could reference his books and study; he could make potions and perform spells; he could do whatever his little witchy heart desired to do in that room. 

As Phil stood back to admire his work, Minton ran into the room and spun his little doughnut-shaped spins. He decided it was probably time to go on a walk, so Phil hooked on Minton’s leash and they made their way outside.

The two sauntered down the path and to the sidewalk. As they approached Dan’s house, Phil couldn’t help but smile from seeing that his car had returned.

They continued to walk along until Phil heard the distinctive  _ fWAP, fWAP, fWAP _ of someone running in flip-flops. Phil turned around, forcing Minton to stop with him, and he almost gasped when he saw exactly who was running.

“Phil!” Dan called. “Phil! Wait up!”

And, of course, Phil had to wait.

As Dan slowed to a stop, he smiled and Phil couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Sorry, I’ve got to get back to work soon, I mean--” He blushed lightly and sheepishly looked down at his mismatched, uber-casual outfit, “I’m working at home, obviously, but I saw you and Minton just pass by and, well,” he took a deep breath and grabbed his phone from his back pocket. “I’d like to, uh, hang out, again? And well…” He paused again, then asked quickly, “Could I have your number?”

Phil raised his eyebrows, as he was somehow almost surprised that Dan showed any interest in him at all, but soon continued with his smiling and he said a giddy, “Of course!”

Dan unlocked his phone and by swiping and tapping a couple of times, ended up in his contacts app. He handed it to Phil, who typed in his name and number and gave it back, “Here you go”.

“Thank you!” Dan grinned and almost just as quickly as he came, he turned right around and left, calling, “See you soon! I’ll text you tonight.”

Phil looked at the flip-flopping Dan and chuckled. He called back, “Yeah, text you tonight!”

Once Dan was out of earshot, Phil sighed to himself. He had a habit of talking to Minton and he half-mumbled, “I can’t wait to talk to him more. Minton, ha, you know my phone anxiety and all and, geez, I hope he  _ calls _ .”

They continued to walk and Phil once again spoke, half-wistfully and half-worriedly groaning, “Shit. I like that guy.”

He chuckled at himself, talking to his dog and conflicted for being so annoyed at himself for falling head-over-heels for a man that, for all he knew, was totally straight and just an ally and a total flirt that would mix awkward tendencies with sudden confidence. Perhaps that wasn’t likely, but Phil was still worried. However conflicted, though, Phil really  _ did _ like Dan.

~~~

True to his word, Dan texted Phil that night.

**DAN:** _hey p-dawg, d-dawg here_

_ shit, that was weird _

_ i’m dan _

_ like, you’re texting dan _

_ well, no, you haven’t texted yet, but this is dab texting you _

_ dan* _

_ dan. i’m dan. and i’m texting you. _

And then two minutes later,

_ sorry _ .

Phil giggled at the series of messages but, honestly, he was just as bad at starting up conversations. The adrenaline from Dan initially texting him soon wore off, though, and he remembered that he’d have to actually text him back.

**PHIL:** _Hi Dan._

Phil added a smiley emoji then clicked send. 

They texted back and forth for a little while, talking about mundane things like the weather, and Phil mentioned taking Dan’s advice and applying for the job at The Marvelous Mug. Dan said he was happy to help, but then, asked a question.

**DAN:** _this is kind of a… bizarre thing to ask but you wanna come over to my house tomorrow?_

Phil laughed.

**PHIL:** _How do I know you’re not a psycho-murderer that’s going to chop me up and then put me into a soup?_

He hoped he was being playful enough. Dan quickly responded.

**DAN:** _ touche _

_ but really, you want to? _

Phil sent a smiley emoji and a happy, 

**PHIL:** _Yes, definitely_.

They continued to talk about whatever came to mind. Nothing serious or very personal at all, but joking around with each other and, Phil would blush admitting it, but certainly more flirting. All too soon, though, it got late, and although both boys would consider themselves nightowls, Phil kept yawning and it became time to go to sleep. They sent each other sweet goodnight texts and that night, Phil vividly dreamt of a pretty man with dimples, a contagious smile, and hair made of chocolate curls.

~~~

Phil hadn’t set an alarm and planned to sleep in due to his late-night texting. It surprised him from sleep when, at eight in the morning, his cell phone began to ring excruciatingly loud. After shoving his glasses on, he read the name on his phone and realized that someone at The Marvelous Mug was calling. He straightened up in his bed and slid the button to answer, saying a groggy, “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Phil Lester I’m talking to?” A woman’s voice asked on the other side.

Phil cleared his throat. “Yes, this is Phil.”

“Great,” the woman said, “I’m Verona Smitt and I own The Marvelous Mug with my husband, Harry Smitt.”

“It’s great talking with you,” Phil practically interjected. He cursed himself for being so awful at holding phone conversations.

“And it’s great talking to you, Phil. Now, I’m calling you to offer you a job here at The Marvelous Mug. We were very impressed by your application!”

Phil smiled as he sat in his bed, shirtless, and on a rather professional call. Dan would laugh at such an idea, he knew it. Oh, thank you,” he said, keeping the idea of Dan’s phantom laughter at him in his head, like some sort of special treat for himself.

“Yes, certainly. If you’re up for it, we’d love it if you could come in tomorrow morning at nine for training?” She asked. “I know you’ve got lots of experience, but we still require it.”

Phil nodded despite no one else being there. “That sounds good to me!”

“Wonderful,” Verona said. “Then we’ll see you tomorrow morning at nine. We’re so happy that you’re joining our staff at The Marvelous Mug.”

Phil once again responded, “Thank you.”

Verona ended the call with a short, “You’re very welcome. See you tomorrow and goodbye.” 

Phil could barely utter a short “bye” back before she hung up.

He flopped back onto his bed with a smile. He had a job, even if it was just going to be temporary, that night he was going over to Dan’s to hang out, and things seemed like they couldn’t get much better. Truly, he had no idea what was going to happen next, but his life was looking up.

~~~

Phil looked down at his feet as he stood in front of Dan’s door waiting nervously. He had rung the doorbell and now, there was no more that he could do but wait and listen to the windchimes. Soon, the door in front of him opened and he lifted his head, making eye contact with none other than Dan Howell.

“Phil!” Dan exclaimed. “Come in, come in.”

Phil apprehensively stepped in as Dan held the door open for him.

“Welcome to my humble home,” Dan said with a giant grin. Phil’s eyes widened as he decided that Dan’s home was not humble at all. The house was pretty on the outside, sure, with all his nicely-tended-to gardens and windchimes, but the inside was absolutely gorgeous. It twisted modernity with a pleasant comfortability that Phil had never seen before. They walked into the living room together and with every step, Phil was even more astounded by his surroundings.

Without even meaning to, his mind went immediately to thinking about Dan’s wealth and he blurted out, “What kind of job  _ do you have _ ?”

Dan chuckled. “I guess I haven’t explained it yet, have I?”

Phil shook his head.

“This is going to sound ridiculous, truly, but I’m like…” He paused for a moment, then with a hint of uncertainty in his voice, added, “An influencer?” 

“Like, on Instagram?” 

“Nah, not really,” Dan shrugged. “I blog.”

“And that makes money?” Phil questioned. 

“Well, yeah. It’s like… I suppose I’m a critic? Sort of? Like, I write about things.”

Dan sat down on the gray plush couch nearby and Phil followed. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Dan explained, “I go to London all the time and I review concerts and West End musicals and comedy shows and sometimes video games and products. I’ve got,” he snorted with laughter, almost, “I’ve got quite a following, believe it or not, so people pay me money to go and review their things. And then sometimes, I’ll get a commission if people buy products because of me. Honestly, it’s kind of a major advertising ploy but I promise to anyone who reads that I’m always honest.”

“Sounds like quite the job,” Phil mused.

“It is. It’s got pros and cons. I get loads of free stuff. Which is like, nice. Unless the stuff is not nice. In which case, it’s kind of whatever,” Dan shrugged with a smile. After a moment of pause, he asked, “Is there anything I can get for you? A drink? A snack, like, some crisps or something?”

Sheepishly, Phil said, “A drink, perhaps?”

Standing up, Dan responded, “Yeah, yeah, of course! Here, come with me to the kitchen.” He motioned for Phil to follow and how could he refuse? 

~~~

Phil had settled on Ribena and Dan had a glass, too. They talked and played video games together, laughing at jokes and getting to know each other’s personalities. Dan eventually ordered a pizza with plenty of toppings for them to share and before they knew it, hours upon hours had passed and it was nighttime.

~~~

They sat there a moment in comfortable silence, and Phil couldn’t help but notice Dan’s eye flicking across is body, the subtle way he licked his lips with a swipe of his tongue, the way he’d barely smile-- and yet, the look of absolute contentment of his face. Phil wondered if he was looking the same way and if that’s why Dan’s eyes were studying Phil up and down. Phil couldn’t be sure-- heck, Phil was never all that sure about most things-- but he hoped and hoped that he was correct about his assumptions.

Phil took a shaky breath in and asked, “Is this a date?”

Dan grinned. “If you want it to be.”

“I do.”

They didn’t allow their eye contact to break for a moment. Dan’s smile faded into something softer.

“Me too, Phil.”

Phil was shaking slightly, his hands jittery and his left bouncing just a little, but that fact made him let out a sigh of relief. “Can I tell you something?”

Dan nodded. “Anything.”

“Ever since that first time I saw you, I was hoping that this could happen.” He could have included the fact that he had performed a spell in order to gravitate Dan towards him, but he couldn’t, no, this was all too good and he couldn’t mess it up now.

“Me too, me too,” Dan murmured as he inched towards Phil on the couch, now on all fours.

“And, like, shit, now I’m sitting on your couch with a glass of Ribena for me on your coffee table, and we, like, barely know each other in some ways and then in other ways, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life…”

Dan swung a leg over Phil, effectively sitting on his lap. Phil’s heart hammered in his chest and he let out a little gasp at the action.

Dan smirked. “This alright?”

Phil nodded slowly.

Dan inched farther up Phil’s legs. “Go on, then,” he whispered.

As his heart kept pounding, he continued, “Like, yeah, we’ve still got some… things to learn about each other, I guess, but,” he chuckled almost, “I want it. I want  _ that _ . Dan, I want to learn everything about you.”

They were nose-to-nose, now and Phil adored the simple brush of air against his lips when Dan giggled. “Me too, I think.” Dan seemed to ponder it for a moment before adding a soft, “Definitely.”

Phil inhaled, nerves still shaking him from inside-out, and let out an exhale, barely breathing out words at all, “You’re gorgeous.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Phil could  _ hear _ Dan smirking in those words.

They pushed themselves impossibly closer to each other and, practically against Phil’s lips, Dan asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Breathlessly, Phil responded with a simple, “Yeah.”

Dan moved his arms around Phil’s shoulders and Phil placed his hands on Dan’s waist. A smile lingered on Dan’s face as he slid his hand to the nape of Phil’s neck and he closed the gap, crushing their lips together. It was chaste at first, but still a mutual silent, desperate plea of  _ want you, need you _ . Dan swiped his tongue against Phil’s lips and he opened them; they melted into a new more passionate position and deepened the kiss.

Phil pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting them for a moment, and they both breathed hard against each other. “You’re so… You’re good at this,” Phil panted. 

“It’s easy to be when you’re so goddamn delicious,” Dan growled and dove back in.

They made out for a while more, sloppy kisses and hands all over one another, until Dan rolled his hips and mewled, then blushed and pulled away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, still sitting on Phil’s lap.

“No, no.” Phil smirked. “Let’s just…” He managed to flip their position so that Dan was the one leaning against the couch and Phil was over him.

“Go on,” Phil said darkly, then he planted a kiss on Dan’s neck. 

He gasped.

Phil mumbled against Dan, “That’s it,” and began to leave open-mouthed kissed from Dan’s collarbone to his chin.

“Phil…” Dan groaned, powerless beneath him. “Jesus Christ,  _ Phil! _ ”

“Shh, shhhh,” Phil breathed against Dan’s wet skin.

Everything felt warm. It felt dizzying and intoxicating and hot. Phil felt like there were sparks between them; like, literal, actual sparks. Like there was hot, burning electricity caught between the two of them and they couldn’t get enough of it. They craved it, needed it, like they were each other’s life force and they need to touch and touch and  _ touch _ to satisfy the necessity. 

Dan threaded his fingers through Phil’s hair and ground their hips together. Phil could feel the vibration of Dan’s moaning as he sucked a particularly sensitive spot at the base of Dan’s neck. Damn, the man was loud. “God, fuck, shit,  _ Phil _ ! That feels so  _ good _ !”

Phil was almost positive Dan was going to wake up with a hickey right there the next morning. He kissed the blooming mark and then, still against his skin, groaned, “Your noises,  _ jeez _ , those noises of yours are going to be the end of me.”

And then, a noise  _ was _ the end of their messy making-out session. 

Phil’s phone, sat on Dan’s coffee table, began to buzz and blare an annoying, grating ringtone. An alarm was going off. 

“Well, shit.” Phil climbed off of Dan and picked up his phone, sliding the alarm notification off. “It’s eleven already.”

Dan scoffed, but he was still dazed from the events that had been happening only moments before. “What, that your bedtime alarm?”

“No, no.” Phil stood up and shoved his phone into his pocket as Dan continued to sit on the couch. “Well, actually,” he shrugged, “It was a reminder to get myself to sleep at a normal time for my first day of work tomorrow.”

“So it  _ was _ a bedtime alarm.”

“No, I said--” Phil then sighed and shook his head fondly. “Fine, it was a bedtime alarm.”

Dan chuckled, but then popped up from the couch and close to Phil. He placed his forehead on Phil’s shoulder. “But I don’t want you to leave.”

Phil rubbed the small of Dan’s back and then brought him into an embrace. “Believe me,” Phil whispered, “I don’t want to leave, either.”

“C’mon,” Dan stepped back to look Phil in the eyes. He fluttered his eyelashes and bit his kiss-swolen bottom lip a moment, then said, “You only live next door. Let’s finish what we’ve started, Philly.”

Phil blushed at the cutesy nickname and blushed some more at Dan’s implication. “But Dan, I need to sleep, and,” he then began to smirk, “I don’t think we’d be sleeping very much if I were to stay over here.”

“What,” Dan cooed, “Sleeping together doesn’t count?”

Phil couldn’t believe his own ears. Here he was, standing in Dan’s living room, Dan trying to convince Phil to stay over so that they could  _ fuck _ , and Phil couldn’t. Any emotional part of him, any part of him there to respond to base needs, was screaming at him, “Screw The Marvelous Mug and screw Dan, instead!” but the logical part of him knew that this whole thing was, practically, a little ridiculous. He needed money. He needed a job. Well, he needed Dan too, but…

He could control himself. He and Dan were moving quickly, anyway. Only an hour ago, Phil was confused as to whether or not this whole meetup was a date. A week ago, Phil was still calling Dan “Chocolate Curls” in his head because he didn’t even know his name.

“Look, Dan, I want to,” Phil said, his hands lingering on Dan’s hips once again, “Just next time, okay? Can we wait that long?”

Dan nodded, a smile forming on his face. “Next time,” he reaffirmed. He then inched closer to Phil and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Let me lead you out,” he said, and turned towards the door, breaking the closeness between him and Phil.

They walked there together, slow and quiet. Phil jammed his feet into his sneakers that were sitting on the black welcome mat, not bothering to untie them. Once situated, he took another look at Dan and sighed. “Thanks for inviting me over. This evening’s been wonderful.”

“Of course, of course, just one more thing…”

Dan angled his head to place one last tender kiss on Phil’s lips. 

Dan pulled back, a soft smile on his face. “Until next time.” He grinned and opened up the door.

“Goodbye, Dan,” Phil said, stepping outside. “See you soon.”

~~~

Phil pushed open the door to The Marvelous Mug with a hesitant smile on his face. It was nine o’clock, on the dot, and he was certainly tired. Once again, Sasha was at the counter, looking as bored as ever. There was no sign of anyone else. Phil sighed and made his way over.

Sasha grumbled, “How may I help you?”

“Uh,” Phil began, unsure, “I’m here for training?”

“Oh, so the application went through quickly then,” she muttered. “Not surprising.”

Phil continued to grin awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess?” He shrugged.

“Sure, yeah, fine,” she sighed, not totally saying the words and not really meaning anything at all by them, “I’ll bring you back. Harry’s here today and I think he mentioned something about a new employee. Guess that’s you.”

Sasha shuffled over to a little half-door in the counter and opened it, motioning for Phil to follow. Once the two were behind the counter, she shut it behind him.

“Harry should be back here.” She motioned to a restaurant-style swinging door. “I’ll let you go alone. I’m not getting paid nine pounds an hour to see you off to the devil.”

“Devil?” Phil questioned. “Excuse me, what?”

“Oh, no worries. Just avoid Harry at all times and pray that if you need to talk to one of them, Verona’s available.” She then smiled almost wickedly, although it was the first smile Phil witnessed on Sasha’s face.

Phil was confused and quite honestly, incredibly worried. He couldn’t be for long though, because Sasha was shoving him through the door.

Standing on her tiptoes, she whispered, “Welcome to my personal Hell, darling,” before one final shove.

~~~

Harry seemed like an incredibly normal man. Phil had no idea what Sasha was on about. He had shown him how the coffee machines worked and had given him the recipes forThe Marvelous Mug’s specials. He also made sure Phil was aware of the book of laminated cheat sheets by the machines so that he’d be sure not to mess anything up.

There was nothing hellish about the experience at all, except for the couple of somewhat twisted, sometimes too-sweet smiles on Sasha’s part.

Phil made it home, took Minton out quickly, then texted Dan. Phil had noticed Dan’s car was gone, definitely off in London someplace, so he wasn’t sure he’d get a response. After a couple of minutes, a text came through, though.

**DAN:** _how’d it go?_

Phil responded, half thinking about just talking to Dan, half thinking about the previous night.

**PHIL:** _How about you come over and we can talk all about it?_

Another text dinged.

**DAN:** _i’m waiting for a meeting with a guy from some tech startup. wish i could rn tho_

Another ding.

_ but tonight. you can tell me all about it through kisses tonight _

And then, a heart emoji. 

A heart emoji shouldn’t have such a stomach-flipping effect on him and yet it did.

**PHIL:** _Tonight, then. Come over as soon as you can._

**DAN:** _of course. might be a little late, tho_

**PHIL:** _Late’s fine with me. I work tomorrow afternoon._

**DAN:** _oi, the guy’s here. see you tonight. xxx_

Kisses. Dan had sent him  _ kisses _ . Three little, ridiculous, fantastic x’s. Perhaps it was silly to get excited about such a thing. Perhaps Phil didn’t care. He flopped down backwards on the couch, clutching the phone against his chest, and smiled.

~~~

Needless to say, Dan spent the night. And then another. And another. Then they switched it up and they spent a night together at Dan’s. Soon, it became less of Dan’s house and Phil’s house and more of their homes. Every second that Dan or Phil weren’t working, they were together. They’d play board games and video games, eat their meals, watch Netflix, have discussions about life, death, their futures and, collectively, their future. They’d cuddle and kiss and, as Dan put it after the first couple of times, make love. They liked that phrase. Maybe it was cheesy and romantic, but they liked the cheesy romance of it.

Phil didn’t say anything about witchcraft though. The quartz and candles were just quirky decorations, his workspace just a closet that he needn’t go into. He’d almost let it slip a couple of times, but quickly stopped himself. Things were just going too well and he wouldn’t let himself mess up everything he had with Dan.

At The Marvelous Mug, things were going fine. Harry still wasn’t as scary as Sasha painted him out to be and Sasha was being slightly more friendly.

Or so he thought.

~~~

It was a slow afternoon at work, barely any customers at all, and that left Phil and Sasha to their own devices. They couldn’t have their phones out a work, so killing time on random apps wasn’t an option. This had happened before and they stood there, mumbling conversation to each other. Actually, it was mostly Sasha rambling on about things and Phil listening and nodding along, but Sasha’s dramatics were at least something to pay attention to.

“People say I show affection in strange ways.” Sasha was in the middle of one of her rants. “And like, yeah, sure, I guess I’m not always expressive. And I’m kind of moody sometimes. And possessive. But there are people out there that I like.” Sasha turned to Phil directly. “Do you think so? You think I’m weird?”

Phil was puzzled. Sasha rarely showed him friendship, let alone affection. “You’re asking if you think your affection is bizarre?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“I mean, we’re just…” Phil stumbled, “We’re just acquaintances. Friendly acquaintances.” He shrugged, still not really knowing how to answer the question. “You mean friendly affection? Because like…”

“So that’s a yes. You think I’m weird,” Sasha grumbled. “Unfortunate. See, I was thinking that you might be someone that might, like, get me at all. I was going to ask if there was a possibility I could be more affectionate with you.”

Phil cocked his head. “More affectionate…?”

“Well,” Sasha shrugged. “For a little while now, I’ve wanted to ask you out on a date.”

Phil blanched.

“I… I…” Phil stammered, “Sasha, I’m flattered but,” he smiled awkwardly, trying to break the tension, “I’ve got a boyfriend.”

Sasha stared at him for a moment before huffing out a breath.  _ “Boyfriend?! _ And here I was, thinking I might have a chance.”

“Sasha, sorry, I’m--”

“No, it’s fine,” she snapped. “Whatever. Not like I ever liked you that much anyway. Besides,” she gritted her teeth, “You’re too old for me.”

She turned around and stormed off to the bathroom. Phil didn’t see her for the rest of their shift.

~~~

Dan had practically guffawed when Phil told the story. “Every time you bring up that girl, she gets more batshit crazy, I swear.”

Phil nodded and laughed half-heartedly along.

“I’m glad you’re mine though, Philly.” Dan pecked him on the lips. “Helps you avoid going out on dates with moody whack-jobs. Or women at all.”

Any other time, Phil would be giving his undivided attention to Dan and joking too, but that evening, his mind was someplace else; someplace where he didn’t break that strange girl’s heart and someplace where, somehow, he wasn’t hiding part of himself from Dan.

~~~

The next week was bizarre. Sasha and Phil still had a couple of shifts together and she wouldn’t even look at him. Once, she had knocked into Phil-- by accident or on purpose, he couldn’t tell-- and Phil had dropped a customers coffee almost right onto her. It spilled all over the floor and made a giant mess. He had apologised profusely, both to the customer and Sasha, and she didn’t even make eye contact.

Phil did his work and she did hers. It was awkward.

Dan had come in one day at the end of Phil’s shift. It was a morning shift and they planned to go out for lunch after it. Dan was all smiles and Phil’s face softened at the sight of him-- Dan, his  _ boyfriend _ \-- but he couldn’t help but notice Sasha’s absolute scowl. 

Another day, when he and Dan were snuggling together on Phil’s couch binging some show, Dan had offhandedly asked what was behind the closed door that he would never open.

Phil tensed up. “Nothing,” he mumbled.

Dan smiled fondly, but Phil could tell that he was very confused and looked almost concerned. They went back to watching the television but something had changed. Something had changed and it was burning at Phil. Not enough to hurt him badly, but it was like a sunburn. Annoying and blistering. He was afraid to touch it, though, because if he touched it, it could peel and Phil wasn’t brave enough to face what could be underneath.

~~~

It was Monday morning and The Marvelous Mug was busy. Phil, Sasha, and another employee named Fred were all working, trying to keep lines moving. For a small town, it sure seemed like there was a heck of a lot of foot traffic in and out of the small coffee shop.

Chaos was brewing and the coffee machine seemed to be malfunctioning. Phil was pressing buttons and flipping switches, but he couldn’t get another drop of coffee to come out of the thing. 

“Uh, guys?” He looked hopefully at Sasha and Fred. “Any clue what I should do?”

Fred just motioned to the customers and turned back around to take another order. With a huff, Sasha rolled her eyes and stomped over to Phil and the machine. She looked at it for a moment before reaching behind a turning a dial. 

“There,” she spat, the first word she had said to him in days.

Sure enough, coffee began to spurt into the pot, steaming hot.

“Thanks, Sasha,” Phil uttered, in an attempt at being friendly with her.

Soon, though, Phil smelled something strange. It was a burning smell, distinctly different from a burning  _ coffee _ smell.

“Do you…” He turned around to face Sasha and Fred, about to ask them if they smelled it too, but noticed that Fred’s eyes were practically popping out of his head as he looked at the machine behind Phil. 

Phil’s head whipped back around. The coffee machine was smoking.

“Holy shit!” He squeaked. “Where’s the fire extinguisher?!”

The customers in the cafe began to notice the chaos unfolding and they got dramatically louder as they ran out, yelled, or tried to point Phil to an extinguisher. 

Sasha ran to the back room while Fred ran to the corner to grab one. A small flame erupted from the machine and the smoke became heavier. 

Fred pointed the hose of the extinguisher at the burning machine and sprayed it and Phil just stood there frozen, panicked. Things were being managed outside of Phil, but it felt like Phil couldn’t manage himself.

Just as Fred had covered the machine with the fire extinguisher’s foam and the fire had dissipated, Sasha came out from the swinging door with Harry in tow.

“What is the meaning of this?” Harry bellowed. “Who did this?!”

Sasha pointed a tan, shaking finger right at Phil’s chest. Fred looked over at him with the extinguisher still in his hands.

Phil stepped forward, looking at the ground. “Me,” he croaked.

“Ah, Phil Lester, the newbie.” His voice then got much louder again. “You’ve caused quite the scene and this isn’t the first of your mistakes.”

Wasn’t the first of Phil’s mistakes? What was he talking about? Phil was a little clumsy, sure, but he hadn’t done anything actually wrong.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Phil stammered, although he was still confused. Maybe he was understanding Sasha’s warning, now. Phil was scared.

Harry shook his head, eyes flicking between Fred, the extinguisher, Sasha, and the ruined machine, before finally landing on him. 

“I hate to do this but Phil, you’re  _ fired _ .”

And that was the final straw. Phil swung the counter’s half-door open and ran out from behind the counter, out from the cafe, and outside with tears in his eyes.


	4. WATER

Phil couldn’t help himself. It was like a dam inside of him had burst and a river was uncontrollably flowing out. He was running home and Phil didn’t like running, but he needed to get away. He needed to get away from everyone and everything because it was all too much. The streets around him seemed like they were fading into too-colorful blurs. Lost in a buzz of adrenaline and tears, the people around him seemed to move in slow motion compared to his frantic running.

Wind was blowing and the sky was getting dark. It began to sprinkle, but Phil didn’t mind. The rain only reflected his unhappiness. 

Phil needed to get away from everyone and everything. He needed to escape from the box he had forced himself into.

He was drowning.

~~~

Dan sat on his couch, laptop on his lap, typing out a blog post for a piano concert he had seen recently. He looked over at his upright piano and sighed. He wished he could play as well as the performers he saw.

Then, out his window, he saw Phil. He was running.

 _Huh._ That was strange. He thought that Phil’s shift was until two today.

Dan sat his laptop on the coffee table across from him and stood up to walk closer to the window. It was sprinkling outside and-- oh. Phil looked upset.

Dan ran to his front door and slipped on his pair of flip-flops, then swung open the door. “Phil?” He called down the street. 

No response, but he definitely heard muffled crying.

Dan stepped outside and locked the door behind him, then ran down the path in front of his house and to the sidewalk.

“Phil?” He called as he got closer to him. “What’s the matter?”

Phil didn’t acknowledge him, the fWAP fWAPing of the flip-flops not causing him to look backwards this time. Dan was gaining on him but Phil quickened his pace up the path to his front door.

The last thing he heard was “Phil! Come on!” as he shut the door in Dan’s face.

Minton greeted Phil, tongue lolled out and smiling, but immediately realized that something was wrong. Phil collapsed to the floor, sitting in the entryway, and Minton scurried to him and sat on his lap.

“You’re one of the best things in this universe,” Phil blubbered, looking down at Minton.

Phil heard the distinct sound of the rain picking up and he began to cry harder. 

Dan pounded on the door. He heard a muffled, “Phil, come on, open up, will you? What’s the matter?” from outside.

Phil held onto Minton more forcefully. “Why?” He called out to Dan behind the door.

“Because I’m your boyfriend and I care about you!” Dan shouted back. His voice then got quieter, “Please, open the door. I only want to know what’s the matter.”

Phil loved Dan. He did. But he was so vulnerable right now. Did he want Dan to see him like this? Crying and holding Minton like his life depended on it and having a crisis?

A roll of thunder shook the house and Minton pushed against Phil. 

“Phi-il!” Dan called from outside. “I’m not leaving!”

Phil couldn’t let Dan stay out there because of him. He picked Minton up off of his lap and, wiping the tears from his eyes, opened up the door.

Dan was soaked and when he stepped inside, and a puddle of water was already forming under him on the floor. 

“Oh, Phil,” he kicked his flip-flops off and rushed over, “What’s the matter?”

With Dan in front of him, Phil couldn’t help the tears spilling from his eyes. “Everything.” He flopped back on the ground and Minton laid nearby.

Dan sat next to him. “Come on,” he whispered, “Talk it out. Why aren’t you at work?”

“I was fired,” Phil babbled.

“Oh?”

“I, I…” Phil tried to explain, a million thoughts in his head at once. He didn’t know exactly where to begin. “I set a coffee machine on fire and apparently everyone there hates me so much that they decided to fire me.”

“I’m sure they don’t hate you. I don’t know how anyone could hate you.” Dan scooted closer to Phil. “What else is the matter? Or is that it?” 

Phil sniffled. “That’s just the beginning of it.

“So what else is bothering you?”

Phil burst into tears all over again and put his face in his hands. “Moving. I feel alone. I feel scared, sometimes.” He couldn’t believe he was admitting this to Dan after all of this time. After all, Dan was the one that prevented Phil from feeling these emotions. Or at least, he covered them up with kisses and loving and food and laugher.

Dan tried to smile, but it was hard. “You have me.”

“Yeah, but,” Phil shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t feel like I deserve you.”

Dan cocked his head. “Why’s that?” Dan thought they were equals in almost every sense and he definitely looked up to Phil’s creative, mystic mind.

In a sudden outburst, Phil yelled, “Because I put a spell on you, Dan!”

Dan’s eyebrows furrowed. “ _What?_ ” 

“I literally cast a spell with the hopes you’d be attracted to me.”

“Phil… I’m confused.”

“Fine then,” Phil said, standing up, brushing himself off and combing his fingers through his floppy quiff. “Come with me.”

They walked over to the door that had been closed for weeks, now. Phil’s witchcraft workspace.

Phil was still crying as he blubbered, “You’re going to laugh. You’re going to laugh so hard and call me a freak and you’re never going to want to talk to me again.” 

“You know I could never do that. Phil, I--”

And then, he swung open the door.

Phil’s head was hung low as Dan walked through. 

“What is this place?” Dan questioned slowly. His eyes darted between the bookshelf with fantastic names on the spine of each book, the candles, the jars and bags of dried leaves, the crystals, the ornate desk; there was something so incredibly otherworldly about it all. It was so very bizarre and yet… _magical_.

Dan then spotted a very familiar book. _Ethical Wicca_. He smiled. He had an inkling of where this whole conversation was going. That book wasn’t a fantasy novel at all.

Phil shoved past Dan and walked to his desk. His hat was still sitting on top. He snatched it up and then placed it on his head.

“Is that--” Dan began, but Phil cut him off.

“It’s a witch’s hat. It’s _my_ witch’s hat. I practice eclectic Wicca, Dan. I’m a witch.”

There was a beat of silence.

“So,” Dan breathed out, “You’re not joking.”

“No, I’m not.”

Dan stepped forward and brought Phil into a close hug. He grinned. “I love it.”

“You… you what?” And Phil began to cry all over again.

“I love it, Phil,” Dan repeated with a smile. “You’re a witch!”

Phil was perplexed. He spent the past couple of weeks desperately trying to cover up this part of himself and here Dan was, seemingly totally supportive of it. “You mean… you’re not freaked out?” Phil asked, tears streaming from his eyes, although, they weren’t all sad tears anymore.

“Sure,” Dan shrugged, “I’m skeptical of magic. But who am I to say that it doesn’t exist? Maybe the supernatural really does have a say in things.”

Phil stared at him and smiled. “So you don’t think I… overstepped performing that spell?”

“Well,” Dan began, “When did you, like, you know, do it?” He wiggled his fingers like he was performing a spell himself, whatever that might look like in his head.

“After I saw you watering your plants that first day. I wanted to get to know you better but you know I’m an awkward mess,” Phil admitted.

“Ah,” Dan nodded. “Good to know. See, I think I was first infatuated with you when I saw you trying to unlock your door for the first time from behind my window. Perhaps the spell pushed me to actually talk to you, sure, but I would have eventually. I think this was all supposed to happen.”

Dan turned to look around at the room around him and Phil did too, with a shrug. “Yeah, you can take a look at whatever you’d like.”

Dan picked up a knickknack or two and looked at some crystals that were sitting on a bookshelf. These objects were pretty to him, sure, but sacred and special to Phil. He loved holding something sacred and he loved even more how Phil trusted him to do so. Phil scanned around the room, looking at his own belongings, until one thing in particular caught his eye: his deck of tarot cards.

Suddenly, everything in Phil’s mind clicked. It was like puzzle pieces finally locked together and everything was, all at once, clear as the purest spring water. They were meant to be and _he had predicted it_. The Knight of Wands.

“Dan!” He squealed. 

Dan turned around immediately.

“You’re my Knight of Wands!”

Dan laughed and asked, “Care to explain?”

Phil ran over to the bookshelf and grabbed the reference book. He flipped open to The Knight of Wands page. “An energetic warrior! Quick to love or hate! _That’s you_!”

Phil scooped Dan into a hug and they both giggled.

“Okay, but what does that mean, Philly?” Dan asked once Phil pulled away.

“Look, okay,” Phil began. “When I came here, before knowing you well, I kept stumbling upon a tarot card called The Knight of Wands. It’s like the universe wanted me to see it, so I looked up the meaning behind it and it said I was going to meet someone exactly like you.”

Dan gasped. “Wow, that’s uh… that’s kind of fucking amazing. Not going to lie. I hate when magic makes sense.”

Phil laughed at Dan’s last remark. “Exactly! Dan, I predicted you in my life!”

They shared another hug and a quick kiss, and Dan suggested, “Come on, how about we have some lunch and then you can tell me about all of this. I want to learn everything there is to know about witchcraft.”

~~~

They ate sandwiches for lunch and hours passed while Phil explained everything he knew. Dan smiled and asked questions and Phil answered every one, whether they were silly or not. He laughed particularly hard, though, when Dan asked if he could fly on a broomstick.

Eventually, afternoon became evening and the sun began to set.

“Come on,” Dan said, practically dragging Phil out the door. “It stopped raining hours ago. Let’s watch the sunset together.”


	5. SPIRIT

Dan and Phil sat on a nearby hill next to each other holding hands. They sky had completely cleared up, save for a couple of wispy white clouds, and the wet grass beneath them felt more refreshing than uncomfortable. 

The sunset was breathtaking. It was one of those summer sunsets that was colored like fruity sorbet; pinks, oranges, and purples swirling together to form a masterpiece of nature.

Dan wasn’t looking all at the sunset, though. He leaned over to place a kiss on Phil’s cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered, squeezing Phil’s hand more firmly. “Thank you for being brave enough to tell me who you really are.”

Phil smiled softly, no longer looking at the sunset. Dan was prettier, anyway. “I’m just glad that you accept me for who I am.”

“And?” Dan asked, expectantly.

Phil shoved Dan shoulder. “And I love you, too. You already know that, though.”

The two stared back at the setting sun.

After a moment passed, Dan murmured, “We’re so… compatible, Phil.”

“I mean, I like to think so.”

“Oh, _you like to think so_ ,” Dan joked, putting on a too-low voice for a moment. He continued, voice now sweeter, softer. “It’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone. Ever.”

“Me neither,” Phil shrugged.

Dan laughed, “And, like, you freaking out about the whole Knight of Wands tarot card thing was cute as hell and all, but like, what if this whole magic thing… what if it really _does_ exist?”

“There’s a reason I’m a witch, Dan,” Phil said. “People might doubt it, but I think it does. I think magic really, truly does exist.”

Dan nodded, then let out a deep breath of air, his chest falling.

“I think it’s fate, Phil. Like, we were destined to be together. Like, Dan from this morning would laugh at me hysterically but, Phil,” his eyes sparkled, setting sun shining on them, “I think we’re soulmates.”

Phil smiled. “I like the sound of that word.”

“Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe we _all_ are,” Dan continued, “But your magic-- no, the whole _universe’s_ magic-- it brought us together. Like, this all happened because the universe or whatever made us to be together. We were made for each other. Phil, I was _made for you_.”

Fireflies danced around them as the sunset turned to a violet, star-studded dusk.

Dan nuzzled his cheek against Phil’s shoulder. Phil whispered into his chocolate curls, “If magic didn’t exist, I don’t think this moment would be happening.”

Dan snorted. “Shut up, you big sap.”

Phil twisted back, fake-indignantly, forcing Dan from his shoulder. “Says _you_ who called us literal soulmates a minute ago?!”

Dan shifted to his knees and scooted closer to Phil so that they were face-to-face, nose-to-nose. “Yeah,” Dan whispered, “Maybe we’re both sappy messes, but you love it.”

Dan closed the gap between them and they melted into the kiss, melted into each other. Phil thought, of all the moments in his life so far, this was the most magical of all.

~~~

“Philly!” Dan sang as he swung open the round-top door with a bag in his hand. “I bought something to celebrate your grand opening!”

“Oh my god! Dan!” Phil yelped as he turned around. He was kneeling on the floor sweeping something up into a dustpan and facing away from the door. “You scared me there for a second, Babe,” Phil said, standing up.

“ _Babe_ ,” Dan chortled. “You’re calling me your ‘Babe’ now. You’re such a dork.”

Phil took a couple of steps closer to Dan and then grabbed his hips. Dan let out a squeak.

“But I’m your dork.”

Dan’s face scrunched up into a giant smile. “And you’re the dorkiest dork out there, with all your silly pet-names for me.”

Phil pouted. “What, you don’t like being called Babe? How about Baby? Sweetheart?”

Dan began to giggle.

“Sugar? Pumpkin? Honey?” He playfully squeezed Dan’s ass. “Honey _buns_?”

Unable to contain his laughter, Dan choked out, “Fuck off.”

Phil continued anyway. “Darling? Dearest? How about Hubby?”

“We’re not married yet, is that really appropriate?” Dan was still laughing softly and Phil rocked them back and forth on the balls of their feet with an exchange of weight.

“You say that with a ‘yet’ like you know for sure it’s going to happen,” Phil jokingly retorted.

“Well,” Dan said, “I suppose I don’t _know_. After all, it’s only been like, what? Late June, mid October-- three and a half months? Still, I must say that commitment looks good on us.”

“It does, it does.” The two shuffled closer. “You know, moving in with you and converting my place into a witch shop was the best idea I’ve ever had.”

“Hey, hey,” Dan almost cut Phil off. “I think it was a joint effort. Besides, I’m the one who offered you my place to stay in.”

“Offered?” Phil chuckled. “You were pleading, Danny. Just a little bit.”

Dan sheepishly grinned. “What can I say? I like waking up to you every day.”

Phil blushed and leaned in for a kiss, which Dan happily accepted.

Pulling away, Dan asked, “So are you all set for tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Phil said, looking around at his surroundings. He had converted his cottage into a proper shop filled with witchy items. Phil saw a need for a local shop just like the one he remembered so fondly from back home and took the idea and ran with it. He and Dan came up with the idea and had worked almost nonstop on the shop after Phil was fired from The Marvelous Mug.

“I can’t believe tomorrow is already October 19th,” Dan marveled, shaking his head. “You’ve been planning this day for like, two months, now.”

“Well,” Phil said, “ _We’ve_ been planning it. You helped me with this whole idea from the beginning.”

“I suppose so,” Dan conceded.

Suddenly, Phil’s eyes drifted to the bag Dan had left on one of the merchandise tables.

Phil asked, “So what did you bring for our little celebration tomorrow?”

Dan gave Phil a little unexpected peck on the lips and smiled. “It’s a secret. But I’ll pull it out tomorrow night, just for you and me.”

~~~

The next morning, Phil held Dan’s right hand while attempting to jiggle the key in the lock with the other one. They were setting up early, so that any customer that would come in would be greeted by an enchanting shop. That’s what Phil wanted, at least. He wanted the whole experience to be magical.

Dan let his followers know about Phil’s shop opening, encouraging anyone in the London area that might find it interesting to stop by and take a look. Dan posted a vlog of him giving a sneak peak of the shop and its owner as a special. It had been viewed a couple million times already, so that was promising.

It turned out that those who came were very interested in magic and curious to know more. Phil greeted each customer with a smile and welcomed them in. That was, until he saw one particular face walk in.

Sasha.

She beelined straight to Phil, who was behind the small counter of his shop and the cash register. Dan was standing nearby and saw the shift on Phil’s face.

Sasha looked… different though. Her frizzy dark hair was still pulled back in a ponytail, but her face was less sharp. She was still extreme, with her bolting right to the counter, but once she actually got there, she looked more unsure.

“Phil,” she tried to smile, “Can we talk?”

Phil looked between Dan and Sasha, trying to figure out what to do. He sighed, then turned to Dan.

“Can you take over the register for me?” 

Dan nodded, “Of course.” They traded places and Phil was now standing next to Sasha.

“Let’s…” he began, “Let’s go to the back. Here, come with me.”

Sasha said, “Sure,” and Phil led them to the back, where his bedroom used to be. It was now used as a stockroom.

“So what brought you here?” He asked, awkwardly pulling out two fold-up chairs from against the wall for the two of them to sit.

“I just…” she began, sitting down, for once not knowing what to say. “I heard you were opening this place up. I stumbled upon Dan’s video online and then I saw the advert that was in the paper, since, you know, they still get papers delivered to The Marvelous Mug. And… it didn’t feel right.”

“It didn’t feel right that… what?” Phil questioned, sitting on his seat.

“Not that--” she shook her head, trying to reclaim her thoughts. “Not that I think witchcraft is, like, I don’t know… like, I accept you for it.”

Phil couldn’t help a short laugh from coming out his mouth. “Good to know you accept me.”

“No, I mean, not quite that,” Sasha sighed. “What I _mean_ is that you moved on. And you’re being successful. And, like, I hadn’t. I still hadn’t, Phil. And I was being ridiculous and I just want to say that I’m sorry.”

Phil nodded. “Apology accepted.”

Sasha exhaled another breath. “And, I need to say sorry for more than just not talking to you for that week. It was more than that.”

“Oh?”

“From the beginning, I thought you were a mess. Like, a total complete loser.”

Phil snorted. “Thanks, good to know.”

Sasha rolled her eyes, but then continued. “And I was going to try to scare you. Like, I don’t understand it, but I was trying to be cool, I guess. Because, like, deep down, I knew I was developing a crush. And I wasn’t going to develop feelings for some lanky, pasty loser.”

“But, then you told me that…?” Phil said, almost questioning it. Sasha _had_ told him, so he was confused why that had all changed. 

“Yeah,” she said, “I did tell you that I liked you. But that was only after you had listened to me rant and had tried to give me advice and I was totally falling for you. So I told you, I thought that maybe you actually liked me enough to go out on a date.”

Phil smiled. “Again, that’s flattering. And I was trying to be nice about it even though you confuse me, sometimes. But Sasha, I could never like you as more than a friend, anyway, even if Dan and I weren’t boyfriends.”

“Yeah,” Sasha shook her head, “And that made me angry. Which was totally uncalled for, but I was really, _really_ angry that the lanky, pasty loser that I had developed a crush on was gay, too, and I took that anger out on you.”

“You did?”

“I did,” Sasha confirmed. “It wasn’t just the not talking. I told Harry that you had messed up many times-- getting orders wrong, not knowing how to use the machine, dropping things all the time-- and that’s why he was so angry at the coffee machine burning thing. Which…” she dropped her gaze down to her lap, “Was my fault, too.”

Phil’s mouth dropped open. “It was?”

“Yeah. There’s a dial on the back that controls the temperature I turned the machine up too far. Those things are old and malfunction and I knew it would overheat if I turned it on full blast. Phil, I wanted to get you fired so I didn’t have to look at your stupid handsome face and be angry at you anymore.”

“Oh…” Phil nodded sadly. He didn’t know what else to say.

“And I’m sorry,” Sasha started up again. “I’m really, really sorry. I know I was jealous and mean and it was an incredibly unhealthy way to get my anger out. So I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you and getting you fired.”

“Hey,” Phil’s face lifted up into something close to a smile. “It’s not all bad. If I hadn’t been fired, we might not be sitting here today. I probably wouldn’t be a new owner of a small business.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I suppose that’s true.”

“C’mon, uh,” Phil stood up and outstretched his arms. “You want a hug? All’s forgiven.”

“Okay.” Sasha got up and shuffled forward, apprehensively wrapping her arms around Phil’s middle. They stood there for a moment, but Sasha pulled away.

“Thanks for forgiving me,” she said, making her way to the door. Phil followed.

“Yeah, of course,” Phil said with a shrug. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She stopped and turned around to look at him. “Phil Lester, I think you’re too nice for your own good.”

They both laughed and Phil opened the door to let her out. 

Once stepping back into the store, Sasha looked around. 

“Hey,” she blurted out, “Could you help me with something?”

Phil nodded. “Yeah, what?”

“Well,” Sasha began, “I was thinking, maybe, since you’re into magic and all, you could help me find a charm? Like, something to help me be positive? Maybe, push bad energy away?”

Phil’s face cracked into a grin. “I’d love to.” He took a couple of steps towards a display of crystals. “I think I’ve got just the thing.”

Phil picked up a glossy black stone and handed it to Sasha. “This is black onyx,” he explained, “It banishes negativity and attracts positive energies. It heals. Some claim that it helps you find true happiness.”

Sasha smiled up at Phil. “I’ll take it.”

~~~

Dan had cooked dinner for him and Phil, a pasta dish with a creamy tomato sauce, and they sat next to each other smiling. Phil had done it. The opening day of his shop was a success. 

As they finished their meal, Dan said, “You know, I still need to show you what I got for tonight.”

Phil’s eyebrows arched. “Oh yeah? I forgot about that.”

Dan slid his chair back and got up, heading into their bedroom. He returned with the bag from yesterday and handed it to Phil.

“Here,” he said, sitting down. “Open it up.”

Phil looked into the bag and pulled out a bottle with red liquid inside. “Strawberry liqueur?”

Dan nodded. “The guy at the wine and spirits store said that it’s perfect for a sweet tooth like you. I’m going to make us some cocktails with it. You know,” he pushed Phil, “I’ll make my own love potion.”

Dan stood back up and snatched the liqueur from Phil’s hands. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a few.”

Phil shook his head and chuckled as Dan made his way to the kitchen. “Have you made drinks before or are you trying something new?” Phil called.

“Well, I suppose It’s something new,” Dan responded as he worked, “But I feel like I’ve drank enough of them that I should know how.”

Phil continued to laugh.

Dan came back with two bright red cocktails in margarita glasses and handed one to Phil.

“Drink up,” Dan said with a smile.

“What is this?” Phil questioned, not sure if he was ready to take a sip.

Dan rolled his eyes. “I told you, it’s my love potion!”

“What,” Phil joked, “Did you go through my spell books and find an aphrodisiac or something?”

“No,” Dan chuckled, “Unless alcohol counts.” He scootched closer to Phil on the edge of his chair and murmured, “But maybe we should try that sometime.”

Phil couldn’t hide the blush blooming on his face. He looked into the glass and took a sip. Dan did the same.

“Oh,” he nodded his head, “This actually tastes good. Well done.”

They sat and took sips of their drinks, fondly smiling at each other.

Dan broke the silence. “Phil, I’m so proud of you. I’m so happy we found each other and can be ourselves together. We complete each other.”

“I’m happy I moved,” Phil said, almost unprompted. “It was scary at first, not going to lie, but if I hadn’t moved, if all of this didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be here. All of the troubles have been worth it, Dan. I love you.”

Dan beamed. “I love you, too.”

As Phil sat in that dining room with Dan’s supposed ‘love potion’ in his hand, his black corgi at his feet, and a pretty man-- his Knight of Wands-- with his halo of chocolate curls smiling at him, he realized that the universe was so very kind. The universe had brought them together and had changed Phil’s life forever, and all that it took was a curious little dog, a little hope, and a little magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr @PhantasticPhun
> 
> Find the accompanying artwork by @ninnapons on Tumblr, as well!
> 
> Special thanks to @sky-dnp for beta reading!


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